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Gerry wasn’t sure what it was about this particular customer that caught his eye, he just knew that there was something about them that made him want to reach out and talk to them beyond the empty pleasantries they exchanged whenever they bought a book.
Pinhole Books was his pride and joy. He used to hate it here. It reminded her too much of her. It reminded him of the shouting and eerie silence. It reminded him of blood, the way his father’s body had fallen limp at her feet. He wasn’t supposed to be home that day. He was supposed to be at the institute, participating in one of those awful tests they’d make him do to study different fear reactions, but he’d felt sick and skipped out, hoping he could sneak in and avoid his mother altogether. He wasn’t supposed to see what his mother did, but he had, and for a while it tainted the quiet bookshop. It took years for him to even step foot inside it again once he’d left, and it was only because he’d heard about a fire in the apartments above and had to see for himself that she was actually dead that he returned at all. He’d been staying with Gee-Gee for a few years at that point, and he wouldn’t have been able to return without her.
Gertrude Robison was a sort of enigma to Gerry even after all these years. She was stern and dry, but she held a fondness for him that he hadn’t seen in another adult since his father died. She respected him, and he thinks that’s why she agreed to move in with him when he said he wanted to renovate the bookshop. Gertrude had known his mother, and she had hated her almost as much as Gerry did. When she heard about the fire, she suggested finishing the job, but a part of Gerry just couldn’t let it go. He poured everything into the bookshop, and it felt so different from the cold, dark place he’d grown up. It was warm and inviting, his art on the walls and Siouxsie sleeping peacefully on the windowsill — clearly soaking up the last of the winter sun. Gertrude mostly handled the more annoying parts of running a business in a dying industry; apparently, some people just like doing paperwork, and Gertrude was one of them. He’s glad Gee-Gee mostly stays in the back office, because she’d never let him live down having a crush on a regular that might as well be his opposite.
He didn’t know their name, but they were beautiful in an ethereal sort of way, sharp cheekbones and long fingers and a mess of long blonde hair. Their hair was nearly as long as Gerry’s used to be before he shaved his head a few years back, worried about bald patches when he started chemo. Sometimes, he pictured being allowed to braid it before shaking the thoughts away because he didn’t know anything about this person besides their appearance and their preference for books on crochet and queer erotica. They always blushed when he scanned it, looking embarrassed but not ashamed. Personally, Gerry thinks the blush suits them. It goes well with the bright colours they wear. He’s never seen someone wear so many colours at once, and he can’t help but be drawn in by them. They're like a burst of sunlight through the clouds whenever they step into the bookshop. They’re magical.
Gerry is snapped out of his thoughts by the soft clearing of a throat, and he looks up to see them standing at the counter, a few books in their hand. Gerry mutters an apology and sits up straighter, looking out the window briefly as he starts scanning the books. It’s already starting to get dark, as is the curse of December. He rings up the books, raising an eyebrow at the odd selection. It’s not their usual choice, and he can tell they’ve realised he’s judging them.
“They’re Christmas presents. I’m sure you know I'm not much of a horror reader myself, but my friends are.”
Gerry holds his hands up, trying to make himself seem less judgemental.
“I was just surprised. These books are less… romantic than your normal purchases.”
They burn red and Gerry feels like he could die now and he’d be happy, even after he’s fought like hell to still be here. He hands them a bag with their books and accepts their money, blinking when he realises they’re not leaving just yet, hovering nervously. It’s clear they want something, but Gerry isn’t sure what. Eventually, they clear their throat and reach into their satchel, pulling out a neatly wrapped present with a chaotic bow. They hand it to Gerry, eyes not meeting his.
“I really hope you don’t think this is weird, but I noticed that your beanie was looking worse for wear, and I haven't seen you without it since you shaved your head, so I figured I'd make you a new one. You can give it back if you don’t want it, though. There’s no pressure.”
Gerry opens the gift hesitantly and stares at the beanie in there. It’s mostly black, except for the slightly misshapen rendition of the Pinhole Books logo on the band. He can hear their rambling trailing off as he studies it, and his chest aches as he sees how unsure they look, clearly scared they’ve overstepped a line and they’ll have to find a new bookstore that orders in the latest queer erotica published specifically for them. His throat feels tight as he tries to find a way to verbalise how much he loves it, knowing he’s going to tear up as soon as he starts speaking.
“It’s… I don't know what to say. This is the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. I love it. It’s just… yeah. Thank you.”
He hates how pathetic he sounds, but it’s worth it for the way they light up. He swaps out his old beanie for the new one and smiles, asking if it suits him? He receives a flustered nod in response and a stream of words about how they need to get going but they’ll see him in the new year. It’s not until the door closes quietly that he spots the slip of paper amongst the wrapping paper. Gerry picks it up carefully and studies the handwriting. He’d always assumed it would be neat, maybe a bit loopy, but it’s a mess. The letters are all different sizes. Some are joined together and some aren’t, some are slanted. Oddly, he can’t think of anything more fitting for them. He processes the note after a few seconds, blushing slightly when he does. It’s just a name, a number, and a cute little doodle of a heart next to some books, but it makes him giddy. Gerry looks around briefly before laughing, jumping on the spot. The noise startles Siouxsie, and she lifts her head to stare at him grumpily, but Gerry doesn’t care. He just scratches behind her ear with a smile, slipping the note into his pocket so he doesn’t call right away.
Gerry isn’t sure what is about them — Michael, as he’s just learned — but part of him feels like he already knows them, like maybe they were friends or more in a past life. He hopes so. He likes the thought of being linked to someone so bright. Even so, he’s excited to get to know them in this life too.